Chapter Text
La Défense Arena, Paris
"Thank you, everyone, you've been amazing, good night!" Allie Hayes yells into the microphone, waving at the heaving crowd for the last time.
Whether it's a small dive bar like at the beginning of her career or the giant stadiums she's graduated to, Allie doesn't think she'll ever tire of the feelings a roaring crowd elicits.
Allie didn't ever think she'd be here at all, let alone doing something that she loved. She'd been singing since she was a little girl sitting on her mother's lap but never thought she'd be singing her own songs for the masses.
She was discovered in one of those very dive bars at the age of eighteen. It was her first regular gig and although the clientele were either non-existent or questionable, Allie was just grateful to have a steady job for three months.
When the guy in a suit had entered the bar, looking completely out of place, she was mid-song. She could remember the cover song like it was yesterday, Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift.
Just after her set, he produced one of those impressive-looking business cards before approaching her on stage. Beau Maxwell was his name and his demeanour was poised and his manner extremely polished.
He'd said, "I'm going to make you a star."
If she wasn't so starving, desperate and facing eviction from her New York shoebox, Allie probably would’ve scoffed at his clichéd terminology and thrown the card back in his face. But she wasn't that much of an idiot and he did make her a star as evidenced by her steady climb up the music charts, sold out concerts and complete make-over from small Brooklyn beginnings to multiple grammy award winner and current 'it' girl if nights like this playing in Paris were anything to go by.
"You knocked it out of the park!" Beau yells, trying to be heard over the loud cheers from the manic crowd in Paris as she walks off stage.
"You do realise this isn't a baseball stadium, right?" She says, taking the towel one of the stage hands has kindly provided. She doesn't know much about sport but she knows some baseball terminology.
"It’s just a saying, Al."
“Okay, what’s next?”
Only Allie Hayes, America's Sweetheart, would still be this hardworking when she's at the very top of her game. Her schedule's hectic enough but Allie always takes it in her stride and strives to do more and be better. When her mother was still alive she’d taught her that from a young age and she hasn't forgotten since.
"Ah, I don't know, maybe go back to the hotel and sleep? Your US leg of the tour starts in two and a half weeks and it’s only going to get crazier so you need to rest, darling."
She nods for Beau's benefit but knows rest isn't going to be happening soon especially with all of this adrenaline coursing through her veins post show.
Allie weaves her way backstage and into her makeshift dressing room. Her finale outfit is meant to not only sparkle but also to stand out. Which is great but comfort definitely isn't an overall factor in its design.
After an obligatory swig of Evian, she begins to change. A knock at the door isn't wholly unexpected, hence the screen she’s standing behind. Usually, it’s one of her personal staff needing to discuss various business matters.
Allie is someone who doesn't like to be alone, especially with her thoughts, so she never discourages company.
"Allie," she hears her publicist Grace call out. "You decent?"
Allie met Grace Ivers not long after Beau discovered her in that dive bar. The three of them became a packaged deal practically overnight even if they did fight like siblings. Being an only child, Allie actually relished in their incessant bickering, go figure.
"Come in," she replies, albeit muffled by the costume she’s removing.
"Amazing show, as usual," she says, closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"
"Invigorated," Allie grins happily. "Performing live is the best high anyone could ask for; it’s going to take me hours to come down from this and actually sleep."
"Well, we could always hit the after party, you know how much I love a party, Al."
This is exactly how things are with her manager and publicist; Beau is the angel sitting on one shoulder encouraging her to work hard but also rest and Grace is the devil always trying to get Allie to flat out ignore his advice.
“So, I’ve had a request for New York next week,” she explains. Allie’s performing at a small charity event in the city after she returns home for a few weeks.
“I don’t know why you’re asking me about tickets for the show. Usually, you just assign them without needing my help.”
“It’s not about your charity event,” she explains, taking a seat on the nearby couch. “You’ve been invited to the first NHL playoff game at Madison Square Garden.”
“NHL?”
“Please tell me you’re just messing with me.”
“Just a little bit," she quips. "But you know I’m not a hockey fan, right? Sports in general just aren't my thing, I think I'd rather watch paint dry or poke my eyes out. Now, if it was a Broadway opening night it would be very different.”
Allie had loved theatre arts at school and was tossing up between musicals and being a musician when Beau discovered her and luckily made the decision for her. She hasn't ruled out maybe doing a play one day.
“I know but the Rangers are playing the Kings.”
“Oh wow, you're kidding me?" She squeaks, her eyes wide.
"Okay, sarcasm doesn't suit you, Hayes," Grace growIs by way of reply.
"I'm sorry but is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Says the woman born and bred in New York,” she adds, her mouth agape.
"Sorry, I've been a little busy lately with world tours and such, you're going to have to catch me up."
"The last time the New York Rangers met the Los Angeles Kings in the play-offs was in 2014 and LA won.”
“Well, sucks to be New York then I suppose.”
“The Rangers haven’t won the Stanley Cup since 1994 so they’ll be out for revenge on the Kings from 2014."
"That's a long time to hold a grudge."
"Which means it has to be New York’s time to shine, I just know it. Just think what it will be like to be at a winning play off game.”
“I never knew you loved ice hockey so much.”
“It’s not so much hockey as it is number 22. John Logan is smoking hot which makes cheering for him and the Rangers all the easier.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you from going and cheering him on, Grace.”
“I won’t get seats like Allie Hayes would get, if you know what I mean,” she adds with a sly grin. “Right up against the rink shield with a front row view of the action. We'll be able to hear the grunts and smell the sweat.”
"Someone clearly needs to get laid," Allie jokes. "I'm not sure watching them beat each other up close and personal sounds like a real good time. Well, for me anyway.”
“That''s all part of the fun. Trust me, you won’t regret going and it’s not like you’ve got plans anyway.”
“I might have plans,” she lies.
To be honest, Allie's exhausted from her European tour and she's looking forward to some downtime back home, not complete rest like Beau's insisting upon but she still had to binge a few series she's missed and spend time with her cats; Grizabella and Ophelia.
Although, she knows exactly what Grace means, she has zero dating life. I mean, of course, she doesn't. She's currently on a world tour which makes it a little difficult. It also doesn't help that her last disaster of a relationship put her off men in general.
“You don’t have plans, except if they’re with me, so why don’t we mix it up and take in some hockey at The Garden? You know, broaden your horizons a bit.”
“You’re not going to shut up until I agree, are you?”
“You know me too well.”
MSG Training Centre, Tarrytown NY
“Did you hear who’s coming to the game tomorrow night?”
“Believe it or not, I’m kind of focused on the game itself rather than who’s attending,” Logan replies seriously, his brows furrowed. “And you should be too, Dean.”
“Thanks, Coach,” he shoots back. “If I focus on the game anymore I’m going to lose my shit.”
“And we know when Dean loses his shit it’s all over,” Tucker teases.
The three all-star Rangers are in the locker room straight after practice. Given the first play-off game is tomorrow, it’s their last one before they head into the city to play the Kings at The Garden.
Dean already knows how much pressure there is for the Rangers to beat The Kings after the 2014 play-off defeat. Which is why he doesn’t need to hear about it all the fucking time. It’s bad enough that every sports commentator and pundit is talking about it ad nauseam not to mention his own father.
When he found out through the Ranger's publicity department about the special celebrity guest coming to their game tomorrow Dean couldn’t contain his excitement. Being a professional sportsman, Dean has his own level of celebrity status but this person is in another stratosphere. She’s also beautiful and extremely talented which also doesn’t hurt her star power.
“It’s Allie Hayes, not that any of you asked,” he bites out impatiently. The guys are really taking the fun out of his big news.
“Who?” Logan asks, confusion clouding his features. Dean wonders what planet Logan lives on sometimes because he seems so far removed from reality, well, unless it concerns hockey. He also likes questionable, old school music so there's that too.
“She’s hot,” Tucker whistles. Dean concurs; at least Tuck has some taste.
“She most definitely is, Tuck, and I’m making it my mission to get her attention from the stands.”
“Given all of the padding you wear not to mention the bucket on your head, good luck with that, Dean. It’s not exactly your best look, man.”
“Are you sure? I’ve seen Dean in the showers and it’s really not pretty,” their captain Garrett interrupts, returning from the showers, a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
“You’re hilarious, Graham,” Dean growls. “Anyway, I have my ways and can say with much certainty that Allie Hayes will know exactly who I am after tomorrow night.”
Some people might call him self assured, cocky and arrogant but Dean Di Laurentis wears it like a badge of honour. He’s found that it works two-fold; it intimidates his competitors on the ice and also gets him laid very regularly. So it's a win-win.
It had been drilled into him since he was young. His father told him that if he wanted to be successful one day he had to act the part. Granted his father was an asshole most of the time but he wasn’t wrong about that piece of advice.
After Dean showed great promise at an ice hockey camp in school at age eight, his father pushed him into playing competitively. Dean didn’t mind because he actually enjoyed it but sometimes it felt like a job more than anything because of his father’s strict rules and training regime.
After he got a scholarship to Briar University in Massachusetts, Dean was looking forward to having some much-needed time apart from his dad but he still found a way to turn up and berate him and his party lifestyle if they lost a game. Dean loved a party but he also trained fucking hard, not that his father saw that sacrifice.
Getting selected to play for the Rangers was everything Dean had ever wanted. Partly to please his un-pleasable father but partly because hockey was all he’d ever known.
Since joining the team three years earlier he’d met his three best friends Garrett, Logan and Tucker and life couldn’t get any better.
“Since when does Dean Di Laurentis actually like someone enough to make an actual effort?”
Usually, Dean doesn't have to make an effort, just flash his dimpled smile and he gets everything he wants when he wants it but, to be honest, it's getting kind of boring. Dean loves being tested and that's exactly what Allie Hayes is; a challenge.
“I don’t like her, not in that way, but I think we could have a good time together. We're both hot, successful people that need to blow off some steam.”
In all honesty, Dean figures he could be a one woman kind of guy for Allie Hayes and probably only Allie Hayes. It's those teasing, caramel coloured eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose which drive him fucking wild but he also knows that it isn’t at all convenient or realistic and he'll never admit it to his friends either.
But maybe, just maybe, they can have some mutually beneficial fun in the meantime?